Fading Words
by Sternenlicht
Summary: Missing scene for "Amplification." Reid. Ambulance. Stream-of-Consciousness. Dying? Surving? Uncertainty. There are only words...


A/N: Well, it's kind of hard to explain this piece. I just saw "Amplification," and though I really liked the episode, I was a little disappointed with how they dealt with Reid's getting infected and how little they actually dwelt on him while the others solved the case – seemingly without caring much for him (yeah, they talked about him, but I just thought they should have shown the team worrying a LOT more ;)).

So…well, I wanted to write something about the team worrying about him. And for some reason – blame my muse! – this didn't happen. Instead, out came a piece about Reid in the ambulance. Or something the like. I'm not so sure ;) Best thing is, if you just read for yourself and see what you make of this.

Oh, some warning beforehand: this is a rough and quick draft – did not really think too much while writing it, just gave into the flow. So please excuse any mistakes (spelling and grammar and what else)! I'm not a native speaker of English, but I've tried my best not to violate this beautiful language too bad!

Disclaimer: Don't own "Criminal Minds" – anyone out there willing to sell it to me for a dollar?

**Fading Words**

"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God."

(John 1.1)

The words are fading. They murmur on in the background, but they have lost their meaning. Just like he can't voice them anymore. Words, his connection to the outside world. The connection his mind once created so that it would not go mad.

He can't speak them anymore, he's forced to be quiet, and at any other time this would have scared him to death. Just the way it did only five minutes ago. Now this has changed. The words have changed. Their meaning has changed.

Not only the meaning they convey – but the meaning they had for him. His way to touch other people when he was too scared to reach out to them and _touch_ them. Sounds, syllables, words. And now only their faded remnants are left to touch _him_.

They don't matter anymore.

He listens to the fragments that still reach his ears, but that is everything they are – fragments. Bits and pieces of sounds he can't string together anymore. Somehow, that's comforting. Nothing can bother him. He longs for quietness, but right now he is still content with the fragmented, isolated remnant of words.

A constant droning on in the background, reminding him – if he ever could have known – of his mother's heartbeat. Contentment envelops him. Which is weird, because moments ago he was still struggling and it was so very important to get the words out, make himself understood.

It's okay now.

He feels the murmur of the words, the murmur of the voices, and the murmur of his own beating heart. He likes that. Comforting, he thinks, and a slow smile tugs at his lips. A smile no one but him would have been able to discern, even if they had been looking.

They are not. Instead, they are concerned with the heart monitor and his breathing pattern, which have lost all importance to him.

Floating is wonderful, and where before there was only anxiety and fear and weakness and strain, there is now peacefulness and freedom and calmness. In a far away corner of his mind he knows that he should feel different, that he should try to go back to feeling anxiety and fear and weakness and strain because that would mean that he is still trying to remain in this world, but now he cannot feel the pain in his chest any longer and – he admits – it is nice to once in his life not be afraid and not to be weak. He's been that for all the days of his life – and if that life is going to end now, well, so be it.

It's no longer his to change that.

Again, he knows that he shouldn't feel that way, that he should fight and fight and fight, but he's been fighting for so long, and it feels good now. No one of the others got infected, no one was exposed but him – and if he dies laying down his life for his friends, well, so be it.

For once he is beyond caring, even if he is the most caring person any of his friends have ever known.

In the background the words are still droning on, he can't make out their meaning. He doesn't even want to. They've lost their importance – why, they are only sounds – waves in the air that the human ear can somehow, miraculously understand and create meaning from. Four hours ago, he could have told anybody how that works. _Would_ have told anybody. Now he wonders. It's not important to bother with these mindless facts, they are nothing. And yet, the fading words are comforting, making him float easier. Like waves carrying a ship to remote places. Maybe he _is_ that ship, and he's destined to leave the known and familiar shores, to discover a new world, with only the murmuring waves accompanying him.

He likes that thought.

A traveler to distant lands. A wanderer.

Fading sounds the only thing still tying him to these shores.

Relaxing, comes to his mind, and he chuckles inwardly. Never thought it would be that way. Him only listening, not talking, not considering the words important; the sounds, the syllables, the very notion of communicating his thoughts not necessary. Not vital.

Distantly, he tries to summon the strength to care about what is going on, but – if he's honest – he doesn't care anymore, and so his efforts (can they even be called 'efforts' if he doesn't really try?) are fruitless. Lying there is all he can do, and it's enough. Lying there and breathing a little. And somehow this breathing a little is so exhausting that he starts to wonder when he can finally give it up.

Well, not yet, he amends. The fading words are still too interesting to ignore them completely. They still remind him of the words' ability to tell stories of far-away lands, strange times, curious events. Trying as he will, though, he can't make sense of the sounds any longer. Which is fine, too. For the time being it is enough just to listen and lie and breathe.

Lost in the murmur of fading words, the outside world is gone; it can't touch him anymore. And yet, it's trying hard.

Languidly, he debates with himself if he should let it get closer or not. Well, he doesn't care now. He's warm and comfortable, and it's almost as if he was listening to his mother telling him tales of wonderful heroes, fighting in distant places to save the world from going up in flames.

A little like his own story, he now thinks detachedly. Only that he is not a wonderful hero. But he has gone to distant places and today he has helped to save the word from going up in flames. And now it seems he's going to an even more distant place, and he's curious to see what it will be like there.

Of one thing he is almost sure, however. Fading words will carry him there. Fading murmur will be here and there, wherever here and there might be. And whoever utters these fading words will be here – or there.

And then the words stop. Fade into nothingness.

A/N: Everyone confused now? Hope not…. Would be overjoyed if you left a review telling me if you liked it and how you liked it and what was great and what was not so great ;) Thanks so much!


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